


lovely darkness

by softagenda (cricketbone)



Category: Collar x Malice (Visual Novel)
Genre: Dark Comedy, Dark Romance, F/M, Possessive Behavior, Short fic series, Slight Yandere Tendencies, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cricketbone/pseuds/softagenda
Summary: Mineo has learned to never be alone in a room with Ichika.Chapter One: Sasazuka TakeruChapter Two: Okazaki Kei
Relationships: Enomoto Mineo/Hoshino Ichika, Hoshino Ichika/Okazaki Kei, Hoshino Ichika/Sasazuka Takeru, Hoshino Ichika/Shiraishi Kageyuki, Hoshino Ichika/Yanagi Aiji
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	1. Sasazuka Takeru: Marked

Mineo has learned to never be alone in a room with Ichika.

Since the resolution of the X-Day cases, the team at Yanagi’s office had gone their separate ways. He had returned to the Field Operations Unit, Takeru to terrorize his colleagues at Cyber Crimes. Ichika had continued on with her work at SRCPO. Okazaki and Yoshinari had resumed their duties at SP, probably on assignment guarding celebrities or politicians. Yanagi had remained at the detective agency to turn it into a true private eye career, to the disappointment of many at the station but to Mineo’s unending awe. Police had rarely had a good opinion of private detectives, but Mineo knew that Yanagi would be the exception to the rule.

Life had returned to a new normal, although they occasionally met up with their old comrades and had a drink at the local bar or at Yanagi’s old office. 

The first time he had experienced it was also the first Christmas after closing the case.

“Drink up, Kazuki!” He crowed, wrapping his arm around the boy’s neck and pressing the beer into his uncooperative hand. “Let loose, yeah? It’s a time to celebrate!” Mineo leaned a little too far forward and tipped the rim of the can toward the floor. “Oops! My bad, Yanagi-senpai!”

Yanagi sighed from the other couch. “Maybe it’s time to slow down, Enomoto.” 

“Too late,” grumbled an irate Kazuki, still trapped in the crook of his arm.

“Eh? No way!”

“I’ll get a washcloth,” Hoshino offered and rose from her spot on the sofa arm, her hand discretely tugging the hem of her dress down on her thighs.

“Don’t bother,” Seaweed Head grumbled to her left, shooting a familiar look of deepest loathing at Mineo. “It’s not your job to clean up this idiot’s mess. Leave it.”

“The beer could stain Yanagi’s floor,” she replied sensibly, with a knowing smile. She shared a look with Takeru for a moment, some unspoken communication passing between them, before walking toward the back area where the kitchen towels could be found. They’d become closer since working on the August case together. The usual flicker of envy at the reminder was thankfully stifled by his buzz.

Mineo swiveled his head to follow her, a little guilty under the bubble-headed lightness of the drink. “Sorry! Thanks, Hoshino!” 

She glanced over her shoulder, her bright green eyes dancing with good humor. “I’ll bring a couple glasses of water too.”

“Thank you, Hoshino,” Yanagi said with another sigh.

For a second, Mineo rested his head on the couch, gaze trailing hazily after Hoshino into the kitchen. Most nights, he could focus less on the fact that Hoshino was a young woman--a  _ very  _ pretty woman with a sweet smile and distracting green eyes--and more on her past as a previous comrade on the team.

Nights like this one, however, where they had gathered around as friends to reminisce and share a good meal, he would find himself staring at her a little too much, his gaze lingering on her face when she laughed, her slender legs when she walked around the sofas or made a new pot of coffee. Now that the X-day cases had been resolved, now that he had returned to the force, found his confidence and pulled his life together...well. Mineo thought he might be brave enough to ask her out soon. Maybe. Possibly. 

He felt both a little emboldened and intimidated by Hoshino that night. She had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a white sweater dress with red tights that evening, the velvety-looking fabric clinging to her curves and settling just above her knees whenever she sat down. She looked soft and lovely with festive little red bows dangling from silver earrings and her hair tied down her back with an intricate braid threaded with red ribbon. Hoshino had seemed much more at ease too, her smiles coming easily, her laughter light and airy.

He’s thinking about the mistletoe hanging from the arch to the kitchen, about the glossy, cherry shine to her lips, and about a time later that night when the other guys had gone home, perhaps just before Mineo offered to walk her home, when he stops.

Fear seized him by the back of the neck. It was as though a bucket of icy water had been thrown down his back. He had felt this only a couple times before, an electric panicky feeling that vibrated under his skin as he stared down the barrel of a gun. Goosebumps erupted along his neck and back. 

His heart thumping hard in his chest, Mineo spun around, his vision blurry and slow as he searched for a threat, until--

Takeru was watching him from the other end of the couch. 

When he’d arrived with Hoshino, he had tucked himself into the corner, his arm draped lazily over the back corner of the sofa. He too had seemed more relaxed than usual, content to offer slightly less snide comments and slightly more smirks, dipping into his cocktail with satisfaction softening the typically prickly edges of his personality.

Now, he held Mineo’s gaze, his eerie red eyes strangely wide.

Takeru’s head tipped slightly, unblinking. There’s something cold and quiet in his face, as though he were watching an ant approach one of his treasured donuts. He’s perfectly still, barely a hair out of place as he trapped Mineo in his seat. 

A minute passed. He barely dared to breathe. Sweat began to build on the back of his neck and wick away into his shirt. He thought he noticed Yanagi move in the corner of his eye, but his instincts screamed at him to keep  _ still _ , keep  _ silent _ . 

“Here you go.”

Hoshino appeared in the living room once more, and the tension popped as though someone had prodded a balloon with a needle. 

Takeru blinked, his attention shifting to Hoshino as she bent down and cleaned up the spill. As Mineo sucked in a tight breath, he noticed that blood red gaze softening. 

Mineo sagged back into the couch, his racing heart struggling to calm down. 

“You okay, Enomoto-san?” mumbled Kazuki at his side, the sulking expression shifting slightly in concern. Hoshino looked around, close enough to have heard the question, and frowned. “You seem kinda pale, man.”

Mineo swallowed and felt his dry throat stick uncomfortably. He took another deep pull from the beer in his hand and startled slightly when the can wrinkled loudly in protest. He’d been gripping the can tightly, hard enough that the edges had been permanently bent toward the center. Mineo hadn’t noticed. “Fine!”

Hoshino paused before replacing his can with one of the glasses of water on the table. “Are you feeling unwell, Enomoto-san?”

Something in the back of his mind cautioned him not to look directly at her. 

“Yeah, I...Yeah, guess I’ve had too much,” he said with a forced laugh. “Thanks, for the water.”

When he found the courage to look up, it was clear that the moment had not passed unnoticed by all. Okazaki and Yoshinari were unusually alert for men on their fifth drink of the night, the good cheer from before wiped clean from their expressions. Yoshinari frowned, glancing quickly between his partner to the other side of the couch from Mineo. Okazaki watched his finger circle the rim of his beer lazily, but there was a tension to his body that spoke of anticipation. 

Yanagi watched Takeru, his brow furrowed.

“You’re welcome.” 

Hoshino smiled hesitantly and hovered for a moment before she trailed around the back of the couch and sat on the arm of the sofa again. The arm connected to Takeru’s corner.

Mineo hadn’t noticed it before. The way Takeru tracked her movements across the room, his body angled toward hers. His eyes followed her with open intensity, with the patient hunger of a lion stalking a gazelle. When Hoshino perched herself delicately on the ledge, Takeru’s arm curled around her waist, his palm splayed across her hip.

Her cheeks pinked slightly, flustered as she glanced down at him. Another quiet conversation later, she leaned deeper into the couch, her hand drifting across her thighs and meeting Takeru’s, their fingers entwining. 

“Ah!” 

Yoshinari yelled, pointing at their hands with starry-eyed excitement at the prospect of relationship gossip. “Sasazuka-san, Hoshino-san - are you  _ dating _ ?”

A weight sunk low in Mineo’s stomach.

Hoshino’s blush deepened to a near perfect match with the ribbons dancing below her ears. “Well…” she began, glancing down.

Takeru huffed impatiently, his arm tightening around her waist. “Obviously. That you didn’t notice before proves you’re an idiot of uncommon skill.” 

Yoshinari sidestepped the insult with the ease of a man who had taken frequent physical and emotional abuse from his superior. “I had thought something seemed different! Wow! It must be extra romantic, becoming a new couple right at Christmas!” He wiggled slightly in his seat and missed the way Okazaki’s eyes rolled. “What are you doing here with all of us, then? Shouldn’t you two be out on a date?”

“We will be, soon.” Takeru smirked with teeth. “Ichika wanted to stop by and reminisce.” He tipped his head back and caught Mineo’s eyes. The gloating warmth of his expression was at complete odds with the cold threat in his gaze. “And I thought it’d be a good opportunity. She’s mine. Keep your hands off her, or die.”

Yoshinari and Okazaki both crowed and jeered at the statement, laughing all the while. Next to them, Yanagi let out another deep sigh, though the corner of his mouth was tilted in an almost smile. Had the previous moment not occurred, had Mineo not been harboring a slight crush for Hoshino, he might’ve joined them with the resulting jokes and comments.

He took another deep swig from his beer and avoided everyone’s gaze.

“The hell,” grumbled Kazuki, scowling. “I’m sitting right here. Get out if you’re gonna talk like that.”

Takeru grinned evilly, clearly amused at Kazuki’s disgust. “Sorry, little brother. You’ll understand one day, when you’re a little older and out of your sis-com phase.”

“You--” Kazuki spluttered, a flush swimming up his neck as he lurched forward on the couch. “Who the fuck has a--”

“Takeru, Kazuki, please,” Hoshino stepped in, trying to calm the situation even as her blush continued to burn bright red on her cheeks. Her voice had the longsuffering quality of someone who was used to appeasing this particular battle.  _ How long had they been together _ , Mineo thought, distantly. He wondered how many signs he’d missed over the past days, weeks.

“Oh!” Yoshinari piped up, beaming. “She calls him by his first name too! You’re really close then!”

“Ah--” Hoshino paused, caught between his single-minded focus on gathering intimate observations about their relationship and the war being waged with muttered swearing and jeers behind her.

“It’s almost nine,” Yanagi interrupted smoothly, with a nod toward the clock on the wall. “You’d better head out for your reservation.”

“True.” Takeru rolled his head back and met Hoshino’s with barely concealed satisfaction. “Ready? If not, you have one minute.”

Hoshino huffed and shot him a look before carefully getting to her feet. “Thank you for the invite, Yanagi-san.” 

He nodded back, casually. “It was great to see you again.” Mineo expected him to say something more, to follow it up with another invitation, but Yanagi left it at that. After a second, he realized the other man was watching Takeru’s reaction with caution.

“Merry Christmas,” she said to the group at large, smiling when they chorused it back at her. Mineo made sure to add his own greeting into the rest to keep from having to talk on his own. “See you all around!”

“Hopefully not often,” Takeru added quietly, ignoring the look she shot him and stepping back to grab their winter coats from the closet. He helped her slide her arms inside, an unusually sweet gesture that earned a coo from Yoshinari, before holding out his arm. “Night. Thanks, Yanagi.”

Hoshino slipped hers through and snuggled into his side. As the door closed, Takeru was leaning down, his smirking mouth by her ear.

Mineo looked down at the glass of water. 

For a long moment, silence filled the space of the room. Then Yanagi cleared his throat. Without a word, he leaned forward and replaced the water with a fresh beer.

“Long night, then,” he said, apropos of nothing and yet to the general agreement of the rest of the room. 

  
  



	2. Okazaki Kei: Guarded

“Here by yourself?”

Ichika startled at the voice right next to her ear, bouncing slightly on the booth’s thick cushions. A man was leaning over the corner of the seat, tall with a wide grin and curly black hair. She scooted back to put some distance between then, shuffling her drink toward the far side of the table.

“Ah, actually, I’m not.” She smiled awkwardly, glancing hopefully toward the back hallway. “My boyfriend just went to the restroom.”

He sighed and looked around the bar wistfully. “Too bad. Shot down again.” He leaned against the side of the table and tugged at the front of his shirt. “All the pretty girls in this bar, and not one is single. Tonight is not my night.” 

Ichika hummed in acknowledgement, unsure of what to say. She glanced at the hallway again.

Recently, Kei had been less and less inclined to go to bars and have drinks, whether it was just the two of them or with a group. 

Ichika hadn’t realized at first that he’d been subtly redirecting their outings away from bar crawls, until she’d been ambushed by Mukai and Sakuragawa one day who demanded to know why she had been dodging their invitations for nearly two weeks. When she’d stopped to think about it, every time she had brought up the suggestion, Kei had mentioned a movie he’d rather see, or suggested a walk on the pier that night, or, more often than not, sidled up to her and whispered in her ear that they could put their precious time to much better use before lifting her onto the next clear surface and stealing the breath from her lungs.

She was curious but decided not to push the issue yet. It could just be a temporary preference, after all. He’d never been that into bar crawling to begin with, so maybe Kei just needed a break. She wanted to make sure to give him that, after the long hours he worked and how hard it was to find time for just the two of them. 

The only reason they had come that night was to spend time with Sakuragawa, who’d been promoted in the Forensics Unit. They’d had a good time, with Mukai and a few other members of the department, and the bill for the barbeque at the end must have been astronomical. Ichika didn’t think she had ever seen Sakuragawa so satisfied after a meal, but then, the woman had essentially eaten the stock of an entire butcher shop.

They’d piled her and a drowsy Muka into a taxi and returned to finish their drinks before heading home themselves.

The man lingering by their booth cleared his throat.

“I’m Makoto, by the way. Torizawa Makoto.” He offered a winsome smile. ‘Makoto’ was certainly handsome, with laughing eyes and a small beauty mark by his mouth. She wouldn’t have assumed someone like him would have trouble finding another single in the bar. Or, perhaps it made more sense if he kept hanging around women who had already said they weren’t interested or available. “Mind if I rest here for a sec?”

Ichika hesitated, caught between her desire to be polite and her confusion that he would continue to talk to her after hearing that she had a boyfriend, but then she shrugged. “We’ll be heading out when Kei comes back, so if you were looking for a table, you can have this one soon.”

“Oh, nice!” He dropped down into the booth across from her, missing her look of surprise. The man, Makoto, flagged down a waitress and asked for a beer. “The bitter, the better,” he added with a wink. He spotted Kei’s empty glass by the corner and handed it to the waitress.

Ichika shifted on the cushion, her legs sticking to the faux leather. She thought he’d at least wait until they had actually left before sitting down. She quickly finished her drink and avoided the man’s gaze.  _ What’s taking Kei so long? _

“So, is this a favorite?” Makoto asked, leaning his chin on his hand and watching her. “I can see why. This place’s got a nice atmosphere. Here’s hoping the beer on tap is as good.”

“Well, their menu has a lot of options,” she began, staring down at the dribbles of condensation clinging to her glass. “We come every now and then. Not as much lately, but it’s one of my favorites in the area.”

“Oh?” Makoto leaned closer. “Why not lately? Ah, I suppose your boyfriend’s not into it.” A knowing look spread on his face with a smirk. “I can see why.”

“Hm?” Ichika tilted her head. He could? 

“Yep. Anyway, sounds like you used to come here frequently. I’m guessing you work in the area, then.” When she hesitated again, he laughed easily and waved his hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ask too many questions. I moved to Shinjuku last week for a new job, so I’ve been touring the local restaurants and grabbing takeout while I buy an entire kitchen’s worth of cutlery, essentially.”

“Oh.” Ichika paused, thinking of Kazuki and his preparations for college, his sudden interest in joining her in the kitchen before dinner and watching her make basic side dishes and his favorite meals. Makoto seemed closer to her age, but it wasn’t impossible that he was in a similar boat - with a new job and fresh out of a dorm or his family home, trying to figure out how to cook by himself for the first time.

She didn’t feel guilty for the caution - as a police officer, she had heard thousands upon thousands of stories that began just like this one - but she did feel some regret that she hadn’t been more polite. “Yes, I do. If you’re looking for a good staple, I’d recommend this place for cheap food and beer.  _ Himawari  _ has delicious sushi - it’s more expensive, of course. That one’s down the street, on the other side of the fountain.”

“I walked past it earlier, I think,” he added, smiling.

“My brother enjoys the katsudon at  _ Goro’s _ . I’m partial to their yakisoba- it has an interesting flavor, spicy and earthy.” She stopped to think. Most of the places she went to were cheap but filling. Occasionally, she and Kei would have a date at the nicer restaurants in town, but few of those were in this neighborhood. Maybe some cafe recommendations then? “There’s a French-themed cafe on the other side of the park, but I can’t remember the name right now.” 

She rattled off a few other recommendations that came to mind, trying to think of other cuisines and types of shops. In the time she’d been talking, she hadn't noticed his beer arrive until he snapped the ring off the top of the cap.

Ichika glanced down at the can and then back up. He’d somehow come much closer than before, his elbows braced nearly to the middle of the table, close enough that she could see the slight shadows under his eyes.

She tried to lean back to put some space between them - only to realize she had her back pressed flat against the booth already. Confused, Ichika glanced down and realized the table edge of the table was barely centimeters from her chest.  _ When did that-- _

A hand touched the side of her face. Makoto had reached across the short distance and brushed her hair behind her ear. A spark of amusement danced in his gaze. “What were you saying again? About that okonomiyaki stand at the market?”

“Um--” She jerked away from his hand, alarm spiking as she realized she was pinned between the table and booth. “Excuse me--”

A loud, metallic crunch occurred barely a foot from them.

Ichika startled and sucked in a gasp when the table’s edge dug into her ribs. She followed the sound to Makoto’s beer, or at least what was left of it. A hand had crushed the can into the surface of the table, the dregs fizzing and spilling out over the side of the table. She followed the hand up and found-- 

“Kei,” she gasped, relief thick in her voice. She tried to slide herself out of the booth, eager to get away from this strange, suddenly aggressive situation, when she caught sight of his face and froze.

Kei stood at the end of the booth, the can now pinched between his fingers. He stared down at Makoto with a hard, unblinking gaze. It was a look she recognized, one that had struck her speechless barely a month before, when it’d been boring into her along the barrel of a gun. A shiver ran down her back at the memory.

Without a word, Kei’s head tilted slightly to get a better look at Makoto’s face. Then he folded the can twice more with just his thumb and forefinger, as though it were made from paper rather than stiff aluminum. A gentle smile spread across his face even as the metal screeched beneath pressure.

Makoto’s face went sheet white.

Kei held him in place with that empty, ghost-like gaze, before he grabbed the edge of the table. A second later, Ichika was able to breathe freely again as he pushed the table toward Makoto, hard enough that the man gasped on impact.

“Ichika,” said Kei, his voice sweet as honey, “ready to go home?”

“Yes,” she said hurriedly, jumping out of the booth and stepping closer to him. One hand pressed to the back of his leather jacket, the other automatically rubbing along her ribs where an ache spread in a line across her ribs like a light bruise.

Makoto let out a wheeze, his hands hooked around his side of the table and pushing urgently. The table trembled under his frantic motions. “ _ Hey--I wasn’t even--I can’t-- _ ”

“Hmm?” Kei bent lower, his shoulder dropping, heedless of the beer gathering in a puddle by his feet. The table stopped trembling. “You can’t, what?” 

When the other man’s eyes goggled, Kei continued, serene and amiable, “Ah, I see. You can’t apologize enough for spilling your beer? It is quite the mess you’ve made - you must be pretty drunk. I mean,” he murmured, smile still in place, “I can’t think of any other reason you would try this.”

Ichika felt another shiver down her back. Her grip on his jacket tightened, the leather crinkling softly beneath her fingers. This close, she could breathe in his cologne and the faint smell of herbs that had permanently sunk into his clothes from his diffuser. It helped calm her racing heart, the scent familiar and loved, despite the tense atmosphere. She glanced around the bar to see if anyone had taken notice, but perhaps from a distance it looked like any normal conversation. 

Makoto’s mouth snapped shut. His face seemed to be caught between the urge to flush with fury or glow a sickly green. After a long moment of staring fearfully into Kei’s eyes, he shook and bowed his head pleadingly. “ _ Sorry--I’ll just--please--the table--I can’t-- _ ”

“Feels tight, doesn’t it?” Kei shrugged his shoulder, his grip still white-knuckled on the table. Makoto gurgled. “Maybe in the future, you’ll have the consideration to keep your distance. Bars like this tend to be short on space already. There’s  _ almost  _ not enough breathing room.”

Kei held on for another beat, until the other’s head seemed about to roll off his shoulders as he nodded fervently like an abused bobblehead. Then he straightened and let go. 

With a screech of the table’s iron legs, Makoto had shoved the table away and began gulping for air. His hands grabbed the edge of the cushion and pulled him further inside the booth, still watching Kei with the whites of his eyes shockingly wide and bright.

“Sorry for the wait, Ichika.” Kei’s voice was immediately, noticeably warmer than moments before. His arm wrapped around her waist, his hand tucked into her jacket pocket and rubbed against the side of her stomach, sending a thrill through her body. “Let’s go.”

“Ah, right,” she said, glancing back at the man now cringing into the corner of the seat. 

They crossed through the packed room, the sounds of conversation, drinks thudding onto dozens of tables, and chopsticks tapping against plates, bufetting against them like hot walls of air. Kei kept his arm tightly around her, somehow deftly navigating them through the crowd without more than a brush against other people. Likely something they were trained to do for VIPs, Ichika thought, a warmth spreading in her chest at the gesture.

The night outside the bar was chilly and crisp, a wintry breeze prickling against her cheeks. Ichika tugged her scarf further up on her collar before glancing at Kei. “Ah, just a second,” she said and tugged them to the edge of the sidewalk.

She’d only meant to rewrap his scarf so that his neck and chin would be covered, but Kei took them further off the street and into an alleyway cast in shadow. He boxed her against the wall, one arm braced by her ear and blocking the view of the street. She glanced up.

His gaze, heavy-lidded and intense, caused heat to pool and settle into her stomach. She sucked in a quick breath and swallowed, trying to read his thoughts from the carefully clear expression on his face. “Kei?”

His next breath was long and deep - he held it at the top of his lungs, before releasing it as a trail of shuddering, wispy clouds. His head lowered until he could rest against her brow, his nose brushing against hers with a careful kind of sweetness. “I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?”

Ichika huffed. “That’s not true.”

“Oh?” His body drifted closer until she could feel the faint ribbing of his zipper catch on the buttons of her coat. “How long was I in the restroom? Ten minutes?”

“It felt like an hour,” grumbled Ichika, staring at the silver earring dangling from his right lobe. “What took you so long, anyway?”

“Yoshinari called to report a slight incident with the current mission,” he replied, and his other hand trailed up her arm, the tips of his fingers ghosting along her shoulder before settling at the nape of her neck to tug at her braid. “Nothing major but could have complications for travel to the next location. More importantly,” he murmured, gripping her hair and tilting her face up toward him. “Ichika, please keep your guard up around strange men. My heart can’t take it.”

“So says the man who first met me while climbing through a second story window.”

The beginnings of a grin tugged at the side of his mouth, but he managed to reign it in before it could undercut his point. “You’re too kind to ignore someone outright, I know. And you had enough to drink tonight that you were a little tipsy.” He sighed, his breath warming her cheeks. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re too sweet when you get like that.”

_ Too sweet? _ Ichika felt a flush starting along her neck and cheeks. She cast her mind back over past drinking sessions with Sakuraga and Mukai, trying to remember if she had acted any different with them than with Kei. Sure, she got a little friendly when she had a couple drinks, a little less reserved - most people did, that was often the point of work celebrations at happy hour. “What do you mean?”

He hummed, his lips just inches from hers. Ichika fought the urge to lean forward and take them, her body singing with his proximity, all the scents that make him filling her lungs, the warmth and shadow of Kei standing over her, surrounding her. “How would I describe it,” he mused, his thumb stroking along her neck and sending goosebumps along her back. “You’re more honest, I suppose - with your feelings, your actions, your body.”

She spluttered at the last, mortified at even the suspicion of what he meant by that, but he interrupted her with a quick, low chuckle. 

“You must have told Sakuragawa several times how you admired her intelligence and work ethic, how this promotion was a long time coming, etc. All the while, dropping your head on my shoulder, touching my thigh--”

“I was trying to find your hand!” she said, her cheeks now deepest pink. “I wasn’t--wasn’t ‘touching’ just to--” She cut herself off when she noticed the amusement in his eyes. Embarrassed, she thumped him on the chest with her fist. “Kei!”

“Ah, really? Bummer.” He pouted for a second before returning to the topic at hand. “When you ordered another drink, you gave the bartender twice as big a smile as he deserved. You tripped into someone’s back and apologized with that shy little laugh you make when you’re embarrassed.” His thumb left the alley wall and brushed against the shell of her ear, a sudden tingling warmth. The shadows lurking within his misty gaze grew deeper, darker. “You shared far too much of your time, space, and goodwill with that spineless creep lurking by our booth since we arrived.”

Her stomach sank. “He was? The whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, his eyes falling shut as he traced the curve of her ear and neck with his thumbs. “At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He could’ve been interested in Muka or Sakuragawa, one of the other members of the Field Ops unit. But his eyes kept finding you - following you through the crowd. When they left and he remained, it was obvious you were his target.”

Ichika felt a shard of icy fear slip down her back. She drew in a shaky breath, her hands pulling him a little closer. She hadn’t noticed. The entire night, someone had been watching her - and she hadn’t noticed anything was amiss. Were her instincts dulling? Even with a couple drinks in her, she should’ve realized someone was hanging around their group, for the safety of the others if not for herself. 

“Calm down, Ichika,” Kei whispered, dipping down those scant millimeters to take her lower lip into his teeth. He pressed a sweet, teasing kiss to her mouth one, two, three times, before he continued, “As if I’d ever let someone close enough to hurt you. I’d put a bullet through their head first.”

She sunk deeper into his arms, her mouth finding his in the dark. Kei pressed her against the wall, sheltering her in the cage of his arms and stealing the breath from her lungs, kissing her deeply, slowly, until the fear had faded and anticipation burned hot and sweet. 


End file.
